


Absence

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (kind of), Being Walked In On, Dildos, Erotica, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, Masturbation, Size Difference, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Minimus misses Megatron while he's at work.Requested from Tumblr.





	Absence

Megatron was late coming to back to keep Minimus company. Of course, he was  _ always  _ late. It was rarely his, or anyone else’s fault, simply the duties of being one of the captain aboard the Lost Light. It’s a busy occupation, and Minimus knew that.

That didn’t stop him from missing him, though.

It was one of those nights where Minimus just couldn’t rest. His processor hooked onto the image of Megatron and wouldn’t leave him be. His comforting warmth that weighed down the berth next to him, his deep, rumbling voice, his poetic words, every single admirable thing about the mech spun in Minimus’ processor.

He didn’t know how much longer it would be until Megatron came home, and it was getting late. Thoughts like that weren’t going to help him get to recharge. With a sigh, he leaned and reached over to the nightstand, digits finding the slim metal of his datatablet. Pressing the power button, it’s light flooded the dark berthroom and Minimus scrolled through his files, looking for something to draw his processor away from his partner.

Eventually, though with much scrolling and back and forth, he selected a novel that he’d found a little while ago. It was romantic in nature, maybe not the  _ best _ to make him stop thinking about Megatron, but it could work. 

It didn’t take Minimus long to become enraptured by the prose and dialogue and story of the novel. However, by then, he’d also remembered exactly why he’d liked this novel in the first place. The two main characters reminded him of Megatron and himself. Not mirror images, no, but close enough that he could effectively paint Megatron over one of the characters.

Quick witted, strategic, strong, yet enchanting and completely effective in capturing Minimus’ spark. One of his servos held the datapad, scrolling through the novel as he read each sentence, paragraph, then chapter after chapter. He couldn’t bring himself to put it down. He did occasionally swipe away from the novel to check and reread some of his messages to and from Megatron, and the responses that the mech gave. Though, he did quickly return to the novel, too caught up in the plot of the two character’s blossoming romance.

He didn’t even remember why he’d picked up his datapad in the first place.

His spark spun in his chest, his vents grew hotter, and most of all, every part of him  _ missed _ Megatron. More than anything. He read further and further into the novel, the words being bent and twisted as he found ways to make them lead to Megatron.

The story of the couple’s love was so enticing. Eventually, it lead up to a rather  _ steamy _ scene, and Minimus only found himself reading more intently, searching deeper into the words and picking and choosing until he could imagine himself and his partner in the same scene.

Yearning and craving as he was, Minimus let his (albeit much smaller) servos wander his frame in an attempt to replicate what Megatron loved to do to him. He stopped and paid special attention to the seams along his waist, his chest, over his spark. His vents dumped heat into the air around him. His valve leaked behind his cover and his spike tried to pressurize in his paneling.

He hadn’t even touched his valve and he already knew that his digits weren’t going to be enough. Disengaging his valve cover, he thought that he may as well try anyway.

Throwing nuance and care to the wind in favor of desperation, he immediately plunged three digits into himself. His sensors lit up, delighting in the pleasant sting, but as he had anticipated, it wasn’t enough. It was nowhere near what he took when he interfaced with Megatron. He’d gotten accustomed to the feel and stretch, now it was the only thing that would satisfy him.

“Frag,” He groaned, helm falling back into the softness of his pillow. He pulled his digits from his valve with a sigh, unsure of what he could try next. Since he hadn’t purchased any new toys since becoming Megatron’s partner, he didn’t have anything that would work.

No, wait, he  _ did _ have something. It took him until he was at his storage closet, fetching it, to realize just how dirty this was, but he banished the thought when he remembered that he was alone. Not a soul around to see what he was doing.

He opened up the storage closet’s doors, finding the Magnus Armor, separated and hanging up on it’s custom hooks, just as neat as he had left it. Before he could let himself think anything that would hold him back, his digits found the Armor’s interface array, and manually popped the spike panel.

One servo in the inner part of the Armor, disengaging the locking mechanism, and the other on the Armor’s spike, he maneuvered and removed the spike from the pelvic armor.

It was weighty and thick in his hold, and while it lacked the ridges of Megatron’s, the size was close enough. He laid back on the berth. The Armor’s spike was essentially like another toy, so long as nobody was in the suit to connect the sensors to, Minimus thought. He knew that he was trying to justify this to himself, seeing as his face flushed deeper and deeper as he willed himself to bring the false spike down to his own array.

His breath caught in his throat when he pressed the blunt head of the spike past his first few rings of calipers. As he pushed more and more of the false spike into himself, he did get the pleasant stretch he wanted, but it wasn’t  _ right _ . The spike didn’t twitch and throb inside of him, he didn’t feel any pronounced ridges at each segment, it didn’t pulse with the heat of a  _ real spark _ . But his charge wasn’t dying down, so he didn’t have much of a choice.

A sigh escaped his throat and he pressed the spike deeper into himself. His lubricant dripped onto the berth under his hips, and it coated the spike as he pushed it in. His other servo wandered his body, teasing at those sensitive seams that Megatron always seemed to find, but it wasn’t the same. His digits were far, far smaller, and they were actually able to properly play with the seams, not that almost bumbling, well intentioned, near  _ jabbing _ that Megatron did which somehow got Minimus all charged up. 

Minimus worked the spike into himself, his own lubricant coating it and making using it all too easy. He barely realized how far down he’d gotten until he felt his own digits, gripping the thick attachment ring at the base, nudging against his valve mesh. He took a moment, leaving the spike grounded in him, to gently massage and rub at his mesh. His digits slipped easily against the soaked array, finding his anterior node at the apex. Cautious digit tips circled it, feeling the way his valve responsively clenched down on the spike inside of it whenever he pressed or brushed against the sensitive node.

He let out a soft moan. It sounded strange in the empty room, but he didn’t care enough to try to hold back any noises. 

“Frag,  _ Megatron _ ,” He sighed, optics shuttering. He took hold of the spike once more and drew it out, long and languid, before pumping it back into himself again. The obscene wet sound that echoed off the walls made his frame shiver. Usually, the combined sound of his and Megatron’s cooling fans was enough to mute that.

He whimpered out his partner’s name again as the head of the spike nosed at his gestational chamber. He held it there for a moment, longing to feel the burning heat of Megatron’s spike in that position, before drawing it back out. 

Distantly, he heard some kind of thick, overlaying noise that made him open his optics.

“My, Minimus, you’ve been missing me.” Megatron said from where he leaned on the doorframe to their berthroom. Minimus froze, servo letting go of the spike’s base as he tried to sit up to the best of his ability in his current predicament. His face flushed, deep and bright, as Megatron sauntered over and took his lover’s servo in his own, pressing a kiss to it.

“I’d like to fill the position, if you’re willing to have me.” One of his thick digits traced the attachment ring of the spike in Minimus’ valve. Once he got the enthusiastic nod from Minimus, he delicately pulled it out and set it aside.

“H-how long were you-?”

“Long enough to know that you want me.” Megatron chuckled, nudging the head of his spike against the first ring of Minimus’ pliant valve calipers.

“I do, I do want you,” Minimus leaned his helm into Megatron’s servo as it cupped his cheek. His vents hitched when Megatron finally decided to push in after deciding that his partner had waited long enough.

“What a sight you’ve treated me to, Minimus,” Megatron leaned down as much as he reasonably could to whisper to Minimus, “Needy for me, stretching your valve with that makeshift toy,” His voice was deep and dark, forcing shivers through Minimus’ frame. The minibot’s servo slipped down Megatron’s chest before grabbing at his arm for some kind of connection.

“ _ Megatron! _ ” Minimus gasped when Megatron’s spike hammered into his ceiling node, then pushed deeper to find his gestational chamber. His charge made his processor spin. “I’m- ah! I’m too close already-”

“Then overload for me, my love,”

With that, Minimus toppled into his overload. His optics squeezed shut, his valve clenched down on Megatron’s raking spike, his mouth fell open in a moan and his grip tightened on Megatron’s arm. His whole frame tensed and trembled while charge bolted and leapt through his frame.

He barely got a chance to vent when he came down from his overload before he felt hot transfluid rushing to fill his valve, the deafening sound of Megatron’s engine in his audio receptors. Before he realized what was happening, Minimus’ systems tripped into another harsh overload that had him sobbing and moaning against Megatron’s frame.

When his senses returned to him, Minimus was in Megatron’s arms, that comforting warmth and weight all around him. It was late, too, and he was more than happy to fall into recharge in that embrace.


End file.
